


Golden Afternoon

by LettersFromTheAsylum



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Based on the somewhat popular headcanon, F/M, Fluff, Like Most Things I Write, Minor Character Death, Mute!Malcolm, Sad for a second, That Malcolm plays piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersFromTheAsylum/pseuds/LettersFromTheAsylum
Summary: When Gil heard a little boy’s laughter coming from the back of the house, he immediately stopped reading. He closed the case file slowly, not that they could hear over the piano. As he crept to the guest room, he heard more tiny giggles. Gil smiled to himself.When he asked her about it later, all she said was: “Music can be very therapeutic.”
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Comments: 20
Kudos: 127





	Golden Afternoon

Jackie came from a big family. Holidays were often spent gathered around an old piano that had been in the family for decades. When Gil and Jackie bought this house, she’d made sure they reserved space for the thing. Gil wasn’t sure at first, the price tag making him cringe, but after seeing the way she lit up, he knew they weren’t leaving without it.

A week later, Gil lugged the piano into the guest room while Jackie was at work. She nearly cried when she saw it.

Then, one afternoon not long after Gil’s promotion to detective, he showed up at the house with a young boy. Jackie immediately knew who he was. Gil had spoken about him frequently and every time he did, the worry lines in his face grew a little deeper. She knew the boy was having trouble with his father’s arrest, but she also knew that the boy had saved her husband. 

So she approached him carefully, slowly enough to not frighten him, but not enough to make him think  _ she  _ was afraid of him. His father was a monster, but this boy was her hero.

“You must be Malcolm. My name is Jackie. I heard what you did for Gil, that was very brave.” 

Malcolm looked up at Gil. When Gil nodded, he looked back at her. Gil had mentioned that he hadn’t spoken since that night. She knew he wouldn’t speak to her, but it didn’t deter her.

Jackie motioned to the kitchen behind her. “I was just making some cookies. Would you like to help?”

Malcolm was still for a second, studying her. She smiled reassuringly at him and held out her hand. He hesitated but then reached out, tiny hand wrapping around hers. She looked back at her husband, who was watching the whole thing with thinly veiled shock.

After Malcolm had gone home that evening, Gil leaned over to her. “Jessica said that he wouldn’t even acknowledge her. She’d ask him something and he would just… stare. Like he wasn’t even in there.”

—

Malcolm quickly became Jackie’s shadow. He still wouldn’t talk, but anytime he was at the Arroyo’s, Gil would see him unless he was trailing behind his wife. It warmed him a little. They had always wanted kids but that hadn’t worked out. He knew it made Jackie happy to see what a great mother she could’ve been.

It didn’t take long before Malcolm came across the piano. Jackie had been in the guest room digging through the closet for a puzzle when she noticed her newly acquired best friend staring at it. She grinned.

“Have you ever played piano?”

Malcolm snapped his focus to her like he’d forgotten she’d been in the room. Slowly, he shook his head.

Jackie stood up and walked over to the bench. She sat down and looked at the boy in the doorway. She patted the seat beside her. “Come on. I’ll teach you something.”

Gil laughed when he heard the sounds from the living room.

—

Turned out, Malcolm was a natural.

He had advanced quickly, learning how to read sheet music and where the notes were. His sight-reading was a little hit or miss, but it would come along.

When Gil heard a little boy’s laughter coming from the back of the house, he immediately stopped reading. He closed the case file slowly, not that they could hear over the piano. As he crept to the guest room, he heard more tiny giggles. Gil smiled to himself.

When he asked her about it later, all she said was: “Music can be very therapeutic.”

—

Those moments became the highlights of his week. Malcolm was at their house on most days. Gil loved seeing him light up when he spotted his car in front of his school. He still wasn’t speaking, but he was a little more engaged. He would nod his head and look them in the eye when they spoke to him. Gil was convinced Jackie had a huge part in it. He even told her so, but she just swatted him on the shoulder.

“All the progress he’s made is because of his doctors and himself. He wanted to get better, I had nothing to do with it.”

Gil shook his head but didn’t argue. Jackie had said no to adoption years ago, said if God didn’t want her to have kids, she must be unfit to be a mother. He let his eyes linger on her for a moment too long and wondered what she would’ve been like with their own child. 

“What? Stop looking at me.”

Jackie would’ve been an extraordinary mother, no doubt.

—

Jessica Whitly was nothing if not extravagant. 

The house itself was… something. Jackie knew they had money. She knew that Jessica was a Milton and that her husband was the very best in a very lucrative field on top of that, but as her eyes locked on to the brand new baby grand across the room, it really drove home  _ just _ how wealthy they were.

“You bought an eighty-thousand dollar piano for a thirteen-year-old?”

Jackie hadn’t meant to say it. She certainly thought it, but she hadn’t intended for it to come out. Jessica tilted her head down, as though she were looking down at her despite being the same height. She had a glass of wine in her hand–not an uncommon occurrence, apparently–and she stood with an air of confidence. 

Jessica sighed. “Your husband said he took to it. Plus, he’s looking me in the eye again. That thing makes him happy in a way I can’t, so…” she trailed off, waving her hand in the general direction of the piano. The way she sneered at it told Jackie that this was probably her last resort, which was insane considering that it was  _ eighty-thousand dollars. _

Jackie hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from it. After Jessica had left, heels clicking through the massive halls, Jackie took a hesitant step forward, like she was afraid to be in the vicinity of something so expensive.

“It’s not going to break, you know,” Gil told her. She jumped instinctively, despite doing nothing wrong. “Even if it did, I’m sure Jessica could afford another one.”

Jackie laughed, in equal parts amusement and disbelief. “A  _ Steinway… _ for a  _ thirteen-year-old.” _

Gil shook his head. “Yeah, well. Jessica Whitly.” Jackie nodded in agreement. That’s all he had to say.

Once she got close enough to really see it, her heart started pounding. It was a gorgeous, glossy white. There weren’t even any fingerprints on it. The keys were smooth and shiny. It made her feel a little bad for her own, nearly a decade old now and the keys beginning to wear down. It still sounded as good as the day they brought it home, but she could only imagine the sound of this one. Since she wasn’t brave enough to touch it, she would never know.

—

Malcolm looked up at Jackie, eyes bright blue and huge, and tugged at her shirt. Once she had turned around and finished wiping the soap off her hands, he stepped back. 

“Piano?”

Jackie's mouth opened and closed a few times. Her eyes darted to the living room, searching for Gil who was for once not on the couch. She looked back at Malcolm, who was watching her expectantly. 

“You want to play the piano? Yeah, we can–we can do that.” If she had been thinking, she would’ve told him that she had to finish the dishes first. She was still in a sort of dazed shock, though, so she let him pull her towards the back room.

Jackie sat next to him on the bench in their usual spots. She kept watching him like she expected him to say something else, to engage her in a full conversation. Instead, he just lifted the fallboard and met her gaze.

“I, um. I saw the piano your mom got you. Do you like it?”

Malcolm looked away, eyes going over the worn keys. After a moment, he shrugged.

“What, haven’t you played it yet?” Jackie asked. He was lightly running his fingers over the keys now, not really paying much attention.

Then, he shook his head.

Jackie was a bit confused. Malcolm loved the piano. He spent almost all of his time at their house at the piano, so why was he avoiding it at home?

“Well, why not?”

At that, his fingers stilled. He turned to her, looking up curiously. He shrugged again before replying simply, “You’re not there.”

Malcolm reached for the sheet music, but Jackie couldn’t move. When she felt her eyes begin to sting, she smiled softly. 

Later, while lying next to him in bed, she told Gil what happened. 

“He spoke?” Gil raised up on one elbow, searching her face for any signs that she might be messing with him. 

“He said that he didn’t want to play his piano because I wasn’t there,” she told him, still not quite believing it.

Gil shook his head in disbelief, something he seemed to do a lot when it came to her. “Right, and you had  _ nothing _ to do with him talking again. Sure, honey.”

She smacked him with a pillow.

—

Malcolm pushed the door open and stepped cautiously into the room. 

The piano was in the same place it had always been, against the wall beside the window. The wood finish had faded a bit, damaged by the sun. Still, he grinned as his fingers brushed the fallboard. It was a relic of his childhood, a tool that helped him connect with someone else and get away from his own mind for a while. It had done a world of good for him, and yet he had given up on it.

Gil was hunched over the kitchen table, going over all their evidence again and again, searching for what they’d missed. When he heard the soft sounds coming from the guest room, his heart stopped. 

He leaned back in his chair, allowing himself to imagine Jackie was still here, that nothing had changed. Malcolm was still a child and they spent all their time at that piano. When those thoughts caused him more heartache than comfort, he picked up his coffee cup and made his way towards the room.

Malcolm’s fingers moved hesitantly at first, rusty after a few years of not playing. When he looked up and saw Gil in the doorway, he stopped.

“You play recently?”

Malcolm shook his head. “No. Haven’t had the time. I didn’t think I could touch a piano without…”

Gil nods. He understands. Some days he kept the door to the guest room closed so he didn’t have to see the thing. “She would kick your ass, you know.” When Malcolm’s eyebrows furrow, he elaborates. “For giving up. She knew you were talented. Thought you could make it to Julliard. I mean, she was proud of you regardless, but… you know.”

Malcolm laughs. “I don’t know about that. I was never good enough for Julliard.” His smile softens and Gil feels a lump in his throat as tears well up in the kid’s eyes. “I miss her.”

Gil places his coffee on the top of the piano–something Jackie would shoot daggers at him for–and sits on the bench next to him. His hand automatically goes to Malcolm’s neck. 

“Me too, kid. But I also think Jackie would kick both of asses for getting tears on her piano.”

Malcolm wipes the tears from his eyes immediately. He looked over at Gil, who is still here, still with him. Gil was a comforting warmth beside him and on his neck. If he concentrated hard enough, he might feel Jackie on his other side with her hand on his back. Just like when he was a kid. He smiled.

“So, what was that song you were playing? Show me.”

Malcolm shook his head, mischief dancing in his eye. “Oh, no. That one is much too advanced for an old man.”

Gil scoffed. “Fine then. Teach me a song more suited to my age.”

Gil cracked his knuckles and Malcolm made a face, one not unlike the one he made as a teenager and Gil said or did something that Malcolm and Ainsley considered lame.

“Okay, Uh… alright, see these notes?” Malcolm showed him a few notes and Gil placed his fingers on the same keys and played it back to him.

“Good. Now just keep doing that.” Malcolm played the more difficult part with his other hand and the sounds blended beautifully. The song was rather cheery, but it sounded familiar. 

“What is this?”

When Malcolm got that spark in his eye again, Gil braced himself. 

“‘When I’m Sixty-Four.’”

Gil sighed, dropping his hand. He looked towards the ceiling, hoping Jackie could hear him. “Do you see what I have to put up with? Look what he does to me.”

Malcolm threw his head back and let out one of the first laughs he’d heard from him in far too long. Gil joined in, mostly out of happiness. Seeing the kid at ease and content was a rarity these days. He would take all the teasing jabs Malcolm wanted to throw at him if only he got to hear that laugh again.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore the fact that ’When I'm Sixty-Four’ by The Beatles isn't really a beginner song. I chose it for a stupid joke.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
